


Hunting

by My_Beating_Hart



Series: A Mahariel's Travels [28]
Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: First Love, Gen, Love Confessions, Rejection, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-17
Updated: 2015-01-17
Packaged: 2018-03-07 22:38:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3185846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/My_Beating_Hart/pseuds/My_Beating_Hart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He was an adult now. He’d gotten his vallaslin, surely he could do something as simple as tell Tamlen how he felt?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hunting

Theron’s forehead stung, but he resisted the strong urge to reach up and itch it. That was part of the test, even though no-one had said so.

This was his first hunt since he had received his _vallaslin_ , and he’d been careful to wash his forehead so not even the smell of blood remained. It had rained last night, washing away all of the old scents as well as old tracks in the forest. They’d been away from the camp borders for three hours, at least.

Of course, Tamlen was with him. When the Keeper had permitted them both to go on a hunt by themselves, Theron’s heart had leapt for joy, even if he had only nodded and went to collect his bow and ensure he had plenty of arrows in his quiver.

The two Dalish elves slipped through the damp forest as quietly as the deer they were hunting, working in a harmony that made them excellent hunting partners once they set their mind to it. They were alert, every sense straining for any sound, any glimpse of damp brown fur up ahead. The birds overhead had grown used to the presence of elves under their nests again, and no longer called out in alarm. That made it so much easier to rely on them for other alarms - wolf, bear, or perhaps _shemlen_ approaching.

Theron dropped to one knee, uncaring of the mud. Their leathers were already stained from earlier in the day crawling through the wet undergrowth. His deep brown eyes were focused on the tracks, the slots at his feet. The Joining would change them, turn them a sharp grey years later. A young deer, moving at a run judging by the depth the splayed hooves had sank into the mud, and the distance between them. A tuft of fur caught on a snag of bark a few paces ahead showed it was heading north, uphill, and thankfully downwind.

He conveyed all of this to Tamlen with a nod as he straightened up from his crouch and absently brushed mud off his knees. The other elf blinked, and then tapped his tattooed, scarred forehead as he stared at Theron.

The black-haired elf carefully reached a hand up to his itching forehead, and his fingers came away with a dark line of blood on them. Theron let out a quiet hiss of a curse, and reached for a dew-sodden leaf.

Tracking momentarily stalled, the two relaxed enough to speak in low whispers as Theron wiped his forehead clear of blood.

“Does it itch?”

“What kind of a question is that? Of course it does.”

“It only lasts for a few more days.”

“I know, _you_ never stopped complaining about it until you almost cried for joy when it stopped.”

“Didn’t.”

Theron wiped gingerly at his forehead, and then looked at Tamlen.

“Is it still bleeding?”

The paler elf squinted, and then shook his head.

“You must have caught it on that branch, _lethallin_.”

There it was, the word that made Theron’s chest tighten and his breath catch whenever it came from Tamlen’s lips. He cherished it. Being out here with him made the hunting trip far more bearable, even if it was mostly spent in silence. It was the times when they walked back to the camp, victorious or not, but in high spirits that filled the forest with laughter, that Theron craved. Tamlen’s laugh, his smile, the way his eyes lit up in amusement.

“I don’t know why you got all of your face done, though. Didn’t it hurt?” Theron asked, looking at his friend’s curling, almost delicate tattoos that stretched to the corners of his lips. Tried not to stare at his lips. The newness of Tamlen’s _vallaslin_ had given him an excuse for a time, but he had to stop staring now.

“It could have been worse. Remember that clan we crossed paths with last season? Their First had Elgar’nan’s _vallaslin_ all over his face. That had to have been painful.”

“Perhaps he liked the pain?” Theron flashed a grin.

“No, you stole that joke from Fenarel, I was there with you when he said it. I’m not going to laugh at it now.” Tamlen shook his head, but there was a smile playing at his lips all the same that threatened to make the other elf smile in earnest as well. Smile because he’d managed to make Tamlen smile, and nothing else.

Theron turned away quickly, pretending to study the tracks again.

“Ghilan’nain, _lethallin_?” Tamlen inquired, looking at the healing black marks again. “I would have thought you would have taken up Andruil’s, you are a dedicated enough hunter.”

Theron shrugged, adjusting his bowstring absently, and then he shook his head dismissively. _Vallaslin_ honoured the god or goddess each individual revered the most, for their own reasons that may not have been obvious at first glance. The reasons were deeply personal.

“Shall we continue the hunt?”

Tamlen nodded, and with a last affirming look at the trail they were now on, the two elves kept walking, growing silent once more. The black-haired elf had, in between looking around for the trail or any sign of their quarry, naturally been thinking about the other elf walking along behind him, feet falling in his own tracks to lessen the noise they made.

They didn’t speak again until Theron’s arrow had sent the young stag to the ground, the feathered shaft protruding from it's throat. Theron was the better archer, had a steadier hand, so Tamlen waited a short distance away. Tamlen let out a quiet cheer at the successful hunt as Theron emerged from the bushes he’d hidden in, already drawing a knife to ensure the deer was dead. The hunter did not allow his quarry to suffer needlessly, Jos had once told him. _Vir Assan._

“Come on, maybe Ilen can use those antlers for something?” Tamlen suggested, watching the other elf retrieve his arrow and say the traditional prayer that thanked the prey for giving it’s life to ensure the clan would survive a little longer. The deer was young, and perhaps wouldn’t be too heavy for them to carry all the way back to the camp.

“Probably.” Theron nodded agreement, shouldering his bow. He turned, and looked up at his friend. Now they had a kill, they were free to talk normally again, and laugh loud enough to scare the birds away if they wished. Theron licked his lips, aware of his itching _vallaslin_ , and the way his chest felt like it was too small for his heart whenever he looked at Tamlen when his face was aglow with happiness, as it was now over a hunt where they wouldn’t return empty-handed or with a meagre handful of rabbits or birds between them.

He was an adult now. He’d gotten his _vallaslin_ , surely he could do something as simple as tell Tamlen how he felt? Every time the blond had mentioned women, Theron did his best to nod along in agreement as if he was interested as well, but there was some part of him that always harboured a crush, a glowing ember of attachment that had once been natural childhood admiration, but had grown to something more the longer they spent together. He could tell Tamlen, and either he would agree - that part of him hoped so much - or he would understand, and tell him that he didn’t feel the same way.

“ _Lethallin_? Before the sun sets?” Tamlen was smiling at him again, and that was enough to convince Theron to say the words that had been rattling around his mind every day for so long, that were burning the tip of his tongue now.

“Tamlen, _ma’arlath_.” He blurted out.

The forest was silent, apart from the birds overhead, as Tamlen stared at him. Theron could feel his pulse in his throat, as if his heart had been squeezed out of his chest.

“Are you serious?” The blond asked after a long time, blue eyes wide with disbelief. His shoulders twitched, and Theron kept his mouth carefully shut, gritting his teeth.

Of course, Tamlen began laughing, and Theron turned away to the fallen deer as his eyes began to sting in warning.

“You…” Tamlen began, but he dissolved into laughter again. Theron swallowed past the hot lump in his throat, and put his hands under the deer’s still-warm side to test how heavy the carcass was. Oh, he had been an idiot. A naïve, childish idiot. He’d let his stupidity override his common sense. He’d dared to believe, to hope that for all he talked about women and handfasting, that Tamlen might have possibly have returned his feelings if he’d known about them. He’d convinced himself it might happen, in fact. And yet, here was reality to rightly punch him in the face.

Theron waited impatiently for Tamlen as he picked up the deer's front legs, gripping both warm, thin ankles tightly. Tamlen had recovered from his laughter by the time he’d straightened up, but he was gasping for breath as he took the deer's hind legs.

“You know, _lethallin_ , if you’re serious, you’ll have to get me a pelt.” The blond grinned, unknowingly, unthinkably cruel.

Theron kept his gaze on the forest ahead as he took the lead again, mouth tasting bitter and the deer heavy in his hands as they picked it up and began the walk back. He was a fool, plain and simple. A deluded fool trying to make a stupid dream come true. Of course he wanted what he couldn’t have. Of course Tamlen had laughed at him, was treating it like a big joke. Some things simply had to stay dreams - they were twisted by reality, broken and degraded. Too painful.

“Finest bear pelt.” He answered, forcing his tone of voice to be _light_ and _joking_ as well, before Tamlen could realise from his silence that something was amiss, that there was the chance that he hadn’t been joking.

As Tamlen’s bright, beautiful laughter sounded again from behind him and a wolf howled in the distance, Theron resolved to deny his feelings again if pain was all love could give him.

**Author's Note:**

> Poor Theron. He was young and foolish.  
> http://a-mahariels-travels.tumblr.com/post/108341597438/series-update

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Observations and Realizations](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4462319) by [Adken](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adken/pseuds/Adken)




End file.
